Glory & Gore
by LadyBadass
Summary: 'I volunteer as tribute' She cringed at the sentence. That sentence had made her whole life obliterate beneath her feet, yet it seemed to have saved the life of the young girl from 12. She turned off the TV, turning to face the boy beside her. He noticed her stare, yet refused to look her in the eyes. He knew the lust for glory had gotten to him, and now they both had to pay.


**Soundtrack: Scared of Change - Our Last Night**

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GLORY & GORE

Clove awoke in the early morning from the sunlight peeking through the curtains covering the window of the small bedroom. She turned in bed only to be greeted by the sleeping face of the fair haired male lying beside her. Her hand softly brushed the skin of his muscular chest, taking in every ounce of his beauty as she tried to ignore what day it was.

'It'll only be a couple of weeks, Clove,' she muttered the same old reminder to herself as she sat up in the bed. Today was the day of the reaping, and he was going to volunteer. It was the last year that his name would be in the bowl. Eighteen years had been spent on him preparing himself for today. He was more then ready.

She rolled out from underneath the sheets, putting on yesterdays clothing silently without waking him. As she zipped up her jacket, she dared herself to cast one last glance in the direction of his sleeping frame.

He looked so unbelievably peaceful when lying there, unconscious. It was almost impossible to think that anything could ever get to him. That putting a sword in his hand would make him commit coldblooded murder without a second thought. But it was, and she knew it. He had almost done it before, on various occasions, but the peacekeepers always beat him to it before he was able to fully lash out on the poor victims.

Clove didn't lean down to kiss him before she left. She had never been the one for cliches or sickening love stories. Instead she skipped the romance of it all and crossed the bedroom, crawling out the window she had come through every night for the past year.

His parents had never been supportive of... whatever it was that was going on between the two of them. Not only was she three years younger, but she was a _distraction_. It didn't matter that he had been the best fighter since day one, beaten all the eighteen year olds at swords fight since the age of fourteen, or that he was leaving her alone to attend the games without a single second glance in her direction. They still didn't like her.

Clove didn't let that get to her though; she wasn't really the one to please others. Besides, crawling through a window and hiding around the training center made it seem like an adventure. What was a relationship without some danger and excitement anyways?

She reached the building within minutes. The training center was off limits to everyone outside of their assigned hours, yet Enobaria had seen to it herself that Clove got the proper training she'd need if she ever was to volunteer and so the first year her name had been left in the bowl, Enobaria gave her a spare key before leaving for Capitol.

The building was emptied out, obviously. There were only a couple other careers who had ever been given their own key, and those never bothered waking up earlier then necessary to train.

She turned on the lights, sucking in the sight off what had over the years become her favorite place. She'd spend around two hours here every morning plus the three hours she was assigned every day before dinner, yet she'd still show up whenever something was bothering her. Whenever she was filled with fury and rage -at least more then usual, she'd show up to throw a couple of knifes at a target and slam a dagger into the head of one of the dummies.

She loved training when she was angry. It felt better then screaming or hitting a wall. It never made her look weak or vulnerable, it made her look intimidating and fatal. Which, there was no denying that she was with or without knifes.

Her feet moved almost automatically in the direction of the table that held all the knives. They were pure beauty to her, they always had been. Her eyes studied them closely, a rare smile tracing her lips as the tip of her fingers brushed the edge of a kunai softly.

She let her finger slip through the handle smoothly and motioned with both of her hands to twist the ring dagger in a circling motion around her hand. It had been long since she had practiced hand to hand combat, yet she mastered it flawlessly. It was never that much fun on your own, but she was more then pleased by the thoughts of stabbing someone on such close notice in the games.

'I thought I'd find you here.' a voice said from behind her. She spun around, nearly lashing out at the intruder with the edge of her blade. After the incident that occurred when Clove was thirteen and stabbed another boy during practice, nobody was stupid enough to ever walk up on her from behind when she was in fighting mode ever since. Nobody but one.

Cato took a step back only for the dagger to miss his muscular chest by an inch. He sniggered at her serious expression and closed off the distance between the two of them, towering over Clove. His fingers curled around the weaponry, pulling it out of her hand and dropping it onto the floor. She felt herself tense at the sound of the metal against stone and she sent a glare in his direction, not liking how he'd always toss her knifes around like that, acting as if they were much less worth then his own swords.

'What are you doing here?' she snarled at him, placing her palms at his chest as she showed him away in that roughly playful way that the two of them seemed to always take to good use between each other. His hand was around both of her wrists in a second, cuffing them together in a firm grip, holding her close.

'You need to loosen up, Clove,' he whispered seductively at her. 'You act as if everyday is the day you'll be sent into the arena.'

He let go off her, pushing her away from him with more force then she had applied. It caught her off guard and sent her stumbling backwards. She caught her balance and made sure to avoid rubbing her wrists as if not to show a weakness. They were aching and there was no denying that bruises would appear later that day. She turned her back at him and picked up a set of daggers connected to a belt that she fastened around her waist. The targets before her lit up one after one as she threw one knife after another, hitting bullseye every time.

'Well, I _am_ going to volunteer,' she stated in between throwing a different knife. It was the last one in her belt and she turned to send him a smirk of arrogance at the sight of that one along every single knife jabbed deep into center of each bullseye. He returned the smirk, but gave no effort of complimenting her; neither had ever found the need in doing so when it came to the talents they already knew that they had. She turned on her heel, walking over to the targets to recollect her weapons. 'It's not like you haven't experienced the same urge to be at your best.'

'I don't waist as much time here as you do.' Cato declared from his spot behind her.

'You left me hanging at your room for two hours yesterday before you decided that it was about time you'd show up!' she yelled at him, yet the hint of a smile stained her lips.

'I didn't know you were _that_ desperate for my presence.' he replied, a grin of victory exposed on his face as he expected her to blush furiously. He'd made her blush before, only once, yet that was more then anyone else could possibly manage from the straight faced girl. He was hoping that he would manage it again.

Instead; the dagger she had just recently gained came bounding through the air as it flew past his head, the handle brushing his shoulder as it spun midair and crashed into the wall countless feet behind.

'Never,' she started, a threatening look on her face - the one that had possessed his attractions so many years back - as she traced the blade of a machete with her finger, walking towards him. 'insult a girl baring arms.'

He raised his hands above his head a gesture of defeat, though his grinning face gave him away as it always did when she was being her ridiculously serious self. 'It's not like it wasn't worth the wait though,' he said with a certain look on his face as he directed the conversation back towards what was their previous topic. 'If I recall the memory correctly, I'm quite sure you were having a great time!'

Clove turned away from him, walking over to a huge matt that was usually used for hand to hand combat. She signalized for him to come, and though he never let her have authority of him, he made an exception this once.

Cato stopped about a foot away from the matt as he watched her standing in a start position. They eyed each other warily and when Cato made no attempt at moving, Clove sighed heavily and stood up straight again. Neither of them moved as they still stared at each other. In the end, it was Clove that had the final decency to ask what was wrong with him, using quite a few curses to get the message through to him properly.

'I'm not gonna waist time on fighting you with my hands,' he complained, scoffing at her. 'You're to small, I'll beat you without effort. Besides; I'll never get in the situation were I'll have to fight someone with my hands. I've told you my strategies. There is no doubt the Cornucopia will have a sword for me to use.'

'If your not doing it for your own training, then do it for me.' she said. It wasn't a plead. Her voice was filled with authority and it was a straight forward command as if his help wasn't one of her necessities, it was scarcely required.

In a flash, he heaved himself at her, grabbing her by the waist and using his own weight to pull her to the ground alongside with him. Before she was even able to process what just happened, he was on top of her. _Low mounted position _she addressed the attack, the wheels in her mind spinning as she considered her options.

Cato had purposely chosen the low mount to give her the opportunity to use her own hands to fend for herself. Both her hands locked around one of his arms, and with all her force - and him hardly resisting - she rolled on top of him to hold him in guard, then side control and finally the roles were reversed as she had accomplished mounting him.

She intentionally sat on his chest to lock both of his arms underneath her knees, though Cato was right about her being easy to defeat without her usual weapons, because her victory was abruptly cut to an end as all he did to fight back was roll over to trap her beneath him once again, yet he wasn't siting upright, instead positioned horizontally above her.

Though this was a position she was more used to as the one they found themselves in just about every night in his bedroom, she didn't resist him now that they were on the floor of a publicly accessed building. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers softly at first, before he added more effort and passion to the gesture.

The kiss was over within seconds and as if it had never happened, Cato got up from the floor, walking over to where the swords where. He picked one up, carrying it with such grace, such respect, much unlike the way he acted around her own knives besides the fact that they could do twice as much damage, considering that you could use them from afar and up close.

Clove got up as well, but stayed where she was, only watching him lash out at the target dolls put out, watching as quite a few of them got their heads chopped off, another losing both its arms, another sliced in two through the waist. A smug grin was plastered onto his features as he stabbed another doll in the stomach with such force the blade came of on the other side.

When she was younger she had found the expression discomforting, yet she had learnt that it was the face of a true champion. One with pure ambition, focus, rage.

Now, the only thing she found discomforting was thinking of how this was the same boy she had found in bed earlier that same day. She never liked thinking of the two of them as the same person, the 74th Hunger Games victor as a vulnerable boy with a teenage crush.

She knew that when he'd return from the games, he'd be even less into her. And she was barely bothered by the thoughts of it. Every ounce of the innocence that once might have belonged to them was obliterated piece by piece every time the blade of their weaponry sunk into the soft plastic material of the targets.

He lashed out on the last functioning doll, stabbing it from above and letting the blade sink into the skull of it, the tip of the metal showing by the spine of the human sized object. 'It's time.' he said quite melodramatically as he let go of the sword handle, letting it stay inside its prey as he turned his back on all of the violence, walking over to her and laying a hand on her arm.

His hand was warm and supposedly comforting. She didn't like it when he touched her like that. It was in those moments that they'd both got to experience their humane tendencies. It made her feel weak.

'You know I...' he started, staring at the floor much unlike himself. Just this once she decided not to shove his hand away, but wait patiently for him to continue, and when he didn't she studied his pained expression with a frown. It seemed as if he was having a quite intense argument with himself, and in the ending he sighed heavily, shaking his head and stalked off in the direction of the exit.

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**So... That was the first chapter of my new fanfiction. It's my first for THG and... I don't know, I feel quite nervous about publishing this. I've shipped these two since the beginning and I couldn't go on without writing them a fanfiction!**

**I feel like they are both to sweet, I don't know, please review what you think, so I know what to work with! :)**


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